She scoffed. “Please, save whatever psychoanalysis is running through your head. It’s literature. Nothing more.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” she said, her voice tight.
He chuckled as she turned and left the room, joining her as his laughter bounced off the walls. If goading her weren’t so easy, it might not be as much fun.
When they stepped outside, he leaned against the wall, waiting as she locked up. Just as she pocketed her keys, a man approached.
With his head bowed and shoulders slumped, the man stopped at the sight of them. “Marti?” he said, more a greeting than a question.
Marti froze, causing Logan to take a second look at the stranger. His sharp gaze trailed over him. Dawning struck at the same time Marti acknowledged him. Logan could see the subtle similarities. They were there in her smile and her heart-shaped face.
“Dad,” she answered, stiffly.
The man stepped forward and reached for her, arms out, almost hesitantly, before he withdrew again and shoved his hands in his pockets. His demeanor spoke volumes. The remorse, the heartache—his eyes said it all.
“Dad, right now isn’t really a good time. We were just heading out.”
Her father’s gaze flicked to Logan, and it dawned on him—fake relationship or not—he was facing his girlfriend’s father for the first time.
“Hi, sir.” Logan stepped forward and offered him his free hand. “I’m Logan Love.”
He shook Logan’s hand, eyeing him closely, but not unkindly. “I’m Jerry McBride, Marti’s father.” Then he turned to Marti before Logan could say anything else. “Well, I guess that answers my question about the seating chart. I read your column, but I wasn’t sure what to believe.”
“You read my column?” Marti didn’t bother hiding her disbelief.
Her father cleared his throat and shrugged. “Been reading it for quite some time, actually. I’m glad to see you finally found someone.”
“We’re kind of in a hurry.”
“Care for some dinner? I’d love the chance to sit and chat. With both of you,” he added, glancing between them. “My treat.”
“We already have reservations,” Marti hedged.
“Please, I’d really like the chance to talk.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Marti, I’m sure there’s room for three.” Logan turned to her, urging her to agree. It wasn’t his place. He had no right to insert himself between them when it was so clear she wanted nothing to do with the man in front of them. But he couldn’t help himself. Because the opportunity to see her a little clearer, to understand her a little better was standing right in front of him, and it was too good to resist.
People often said in order to move forward with your life, you had to put the past behind you. But Logan wasn’t sure he agreed. Not when the past lived inside you. The past made you who you are. Carrying it with you wasn’t a choice. Facing it, acknowledging it, and coming to terms with it was the key.
Something told him Marti had never fully dealt with her feelings of abandonment. Instead, they lived deep inside her, untouched, hidden away in the darkest corners. But if forcing her hand at facing her past pushed her closer to lowering her walls, he was all for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MARTI
CANDLES FLICKERED, dappling Marti, Logan, and her father in soft light. Flowers decorated the tables and the soft sound of Sinatra crooned in the background.
The restaurant was romantic. Far too romantic for a party of three—especially when one of those three was her father.
She sat across from them, stiff-lipped and ready for a fight. Next to her, Logan reached under the table and squeezed her knee in a gesture of comfort, but it only served to push the pulse of anger into her temples where it beat like a drum. If he had her comfort in mind, he never would have agreed to this dinner.
She tried to shove her anger back, reminding herself to get through the next hour, and then she could leave. But their drinks arrived, and her father placed an order for appetizers, talking the entire time, which only grated on her nerves. At this rate, it’d be a miracle if she made it to the entrée.
“Cindy would love this place,” he said. “Every Friday night we go to dinner, always somewhere new or someplace we haven’t been in a while.”